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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764527">muscle to muscle the fear has gripped me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine'>icemachine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doom Patrol (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Torture, Unethical Experimentation, Vivisection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:27:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the Ant Farm doesn’t change much. At least, Keeg thinks, they have the safety of simplicity. At least they have the knowledge of conformity. At least—-</p><p>Something isn’t right when Forsythe walks in for today’s dose. The smile on his face is always present, but this time its twist is somewhat different.</p><p>(Or: What is the true extent of the Spirit's powers?)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keeg Bovo &amp; Larry Trainor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>muscle to muscle the fear has gripped me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>yeah this is fucked up. i love larry i swear!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keeg has learned not to harm the agents. </p><p> </p><p>That only makes things worse for Larry. Everything that they do is blamed on Larry and Larry’s “disease” -- as they call it -- which Keeg still cannot decipher. Larry, to them, is everything that has ever been defined pure, is chosen. Their time together has been short -- but Keeg knows everything,  has seen everything everything <em> everything </em>shoved up into small places internally, everything that has been drowned and left to dry, everything he has tried to bury in the graveyard of them, and Larry, in the whitened-terrified eyes of Keeg Bovo, is a being capable of good, a human extension of themselves, they just need to strip away the dead skin and the suffering and transform him. </p><p> </p><p>They can’t do that in here.</p><p> </p><p>The struggle with the idea that they might never leave the Ant Farm is beginning to end, and they are embracing acceptance of the concept. Stages of grief. It is what Larry deserves, after all, in his own mind. Keeg watches him replay his entire life over and over and over again, an endless vortexspiral of self harm. The torture continues even when Forsythe isn’t around. The regrets like countless hands conspiring to coil around Larry’s neck, the neck that houses the nest where Keeg has made their home, in between bone and throat-meat and lung. Keeg exists. Keeg does what they are told to do. Larry still watches his regrets like grainy gruesome horror films on repeat, like he’s addicted to his own suffering, like he wants to gorge on it, like he wants to stuff himself unbearably full with pain so that he doesn’t have to think about anything else. It is what he deserves. What he deserves, <em> truly, </em> in the cloud of divinity and truth, is to <em> heal. </em></p><p> </p><p>He can’t do that in here.</p><p> </p><p>The days in the Ant Farm begin to become monotone. A routine. Forsythe walks in, Forsythe does his tests and experiments, and even through the spark of their machines — even through the terror of being forced to watch Larry Trainor receive the treatment that he falsely believes he is owed — even through Keeg’s own suffering — life in the Ant Farm doesn’t change much. At least, Keeg thinks, they have the safety of simplicity. At least they have the knowledge of conformity. At least—-</p><p> </p><p>Something isn’t right when Forsythe walks in for today’s dose. The smile on his face is always present, but this time its twist is somewhat different. His hair is slightly unkempt, not gelled back <em> perfectly </em>as it usually appears. Something is wrong. He would not, normally, allow this.</p><p> </p><p>“Captain Trainor,” he says. “We’re trying something different today. Come with me.” He pauses, hisses dark: “And tell your sparking friend in there to behave.”</p><p> </p><p>Larry follows him. The lack of hesitation, at the surface, is because he knows that he doesn’t have a choice, but inside of him Keeg stirs, inside of him Keeg trembles; even with their power, even with their attributes, they still can’t help him. Inside of Larry Trainor there is a collected set of false beliefs. Larry Trainor desires anguish.</p><p> </p><p>So: Larry follows him.</p><p> </p><p>++</p><p> </p><p>They strap Larry to a lab table.  Keeg can feel the fear that he’s trying to swallow down. It’s admirable, he’s beautiful -- he’s trying to be <em> brave. </em>In the mist, in the unknown, he’s trying to be brave, and Keeg loves every atom that composes his body, loves every single aspect of Larry Trainor. Maybe if they ever get out of here—</p><p> </p><p>maybe—</p><p> </p><p>if they—</p><p> </p><p>they—</p><p> </p><p>Maybe, perhaps one day, they could be friends.</p><p> </p><p>But not now. Now: Charles Forsythe, donned in his radiation-immune suit, stabs a needle into Larry’s neck, injecting a foreign substance. Keeg could fight it; Keeg could <em> fight. </em>Keeg could kill them all and they’d deserve it for further shattering such a broken man. Keeg briefly allows themselves to fantasize, allows their own mind to cut his suit right open with that needle and watch him boil.</p><p> </p><p>Back in reality, Larry Trainor’s mind begins to mellow out. He’s been drugged, Keeg guesses. It’s not enough to make him completely unconscious — Forsythe wants him awake for whatever is about to happen. To intimidate. To instill fear. To force the ultimate goal that Larry will never be able to achieve — their concept of <em> normalcy. </em></p><p> </p><p>Larry giggles when he sees the scalpel. It does not occur to him that he is about to be cut open. His mind is -- for once -- bearable, due to the medication. The coin is spinning, and now Keeg’s mind is coiled, now Keeg is the one that possesses the fear and the hatred and the <em> suffering, o </em>the suffering, Forsythe is going to hurt him in a way that Keeg cannot ever fix, violating him in a way that cannot ever be sewn back up to scar again—</p><p> </p><p>“That being inside of you is keeping you alive no matter what,” says Forsythe. “It’s time to test the extent of its power.” And he leans in close — so <em> close — </em> to Larry’s chest, whispers, “ <em> And you </em> <b> <em>will </em> </b> <em> allow this. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>If Keeg fights back, Larry will die. This is the most wounding realization possible -- there is nothing Keeg can do beyond watch the man that they had vowed to protect be violated. There is no way to help him. There is no escape from this. Neither of them will recover.  This will be a haunting inside of Keeg and Larry until time extinguishes.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s begin.”</p><p> </p><p>He unbuttons Larry’s clothing, and makes an incision over the thorax—-- picks up another sharp instrument, cuts through bone —-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> and grasps the heart of Larry Trainor.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>(This is something that Keeg will never be able to do.)</p><p>
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